My Busted Stork

The travails of an infertile…and no, I won’t just relax!


4 Comments

A salute to my TTC journey

It’s been almost 2 years since I posted last. I had to approve a recent comment so came back for a little visit and reading my posts have done so much for me.

When I was TTCing I read a lot of blogs and one of my pet peeves (gees, did I have a few!) was following a blog that I really identified with, and then the person went and finally got pregnant and became a mom (continued to blog) and I no longer identified with them at all. They just became another person of which my life is filled – mommies. I was very clear that this blog was about the travails of infertility so what would I have to write about when I came to the end of my journey? I loved the small amount of blogging that I did do but I didn’t think it was fair on anyone reading that I just write about being a mommy. Eeugh!

But in reading my story again yesterday I felt that I hadn’t quite ‘closed the loop’. And I also hadn’t acknowledged how my battle with infertility has been part of my story and a part of who I am today.

So this post is about doing just that. However, I will allow myself one sentence of gushing (here goes). Isaac (AKA Zac) is one year old and is the chubbiest, happiest, cutest baby boy ever known to man and I am one ecstatic, fulfilled and completely smitten girl. There.

While reading this post yesterday it struck me that although I do my fair share of bitching and moaning about sleepless nights and snot in my hair it never leaves me that this is what I so badly yearned for and it is everything I hoped and more. I stare into Zac’s cot and watch him sleep – I actually risk waking him up by going in to see him because I miss him. I don’t think I would quite appreciate him in this way if I hadn’t have gone through the journey I did. I am not for a moment saying that other Moms don’t appreciate their offspring in the same way. But in my personal journey it gives me a perspective that I don’t think I would have without having gone through that kind of pain.

I lost my Mom a month ago. In a cruel twist of fate she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of Cancer a few months after moving down to Cape Town to finally be the Granny she always wanted to be. She died 4 months later as a thin, frail shell of her former self. Yes, I know I must be grateful that she at least got to meet Zac. But to be honest I am still pissed off that after all her prayer and sacrifice (like this) she wasn’t able to be Granny at all. Zac will never know the awesome lady that could have been his Granny all through his childhood. She was the one and only person who gave a damn about every small tiny detail. We argued about what to feed him, when to change him, when to stop breastfeeding, what time he should sleep. She wanted to be part of all of it and now she can’t be. But in all that anger there is gratitude. As she lay dying I whispered to her that I am so thankful that God blessed me with Zac before she died because it meant that I could understand her as a Mom. I could understand her love for me in a way I never could before. I could understand that her love for me caused her physical pain and that she wished and prayed for my happiness above her own. To have missed out on this understanding would have been so much harder to bear.

On a lighter note I have become all that I detested! Yes, that is sad to all those reading that are still TTCing. I know I would have said – “can’t one of you smug mommies just hold on to one iota of strength and bitterness and not buckle under the pressure to be gooey about your offspring?” Well, I wish I could but we are not built for it and I am not going to profess to be stronger than my emotions. I talk about poo, I don’t sleep well, I boast about Zac’s genius, I band together with other moms for support. I am my own worst nightmare and I love it.

But I am also aware of the thorn in my side. That ugly little devil is not dead yet.  Now all my mommy friends are going on for number 2 or 3 and I sit quietly calculating how I am going to have to cash in a policy or sell my house to go for number 2. After the horror of that FET cycle I was the happiest, most excited pregnant woman on earth and I have to, need to, have that one more time.

So until round 2 strikes, good luck to all of you out there and please keep in touch.

(I leave you with a picture, I’m sorry, I physically couldn’t resist!)

20140829_070258

Advertisements


4 Comments

And now we wait

This is probably not going to be the most inspired post – right now I am at best holding my head up and at worst not even thinking straight. Words might not come the right order in. But I thought I needed to document where we are right now so that I have done it before the dreaded approaching test date. Last IVF I lagged on writing everything down and so had to write it all after we had our BFN which was really tough. Looking back it was good in a way because it let me examine my story and then put it to bed as best as I could.

We had our Embryo Transfer a few days ago. I tried to have a relaxing morning at home but ended up doing some work. Then I planned a nice walk on the beach with the dogs which ended up being a massive sand storm because of the wind – I continued to try and see the bright side.

We got to see the Doc and he said that they had thawed the first 2 embryo’s but they weren’t looking good. I saw them on the screen – they looked like lumpy walnuts instead of embryos but it’s a wonder to me that I even know what an embryo should look like! So we spent another stressful hour waiting to see if the other 2 – our last 2 – would thaw and remain viable. The what ifs were racing through my brain and making me seasick. Doc came through with a thumbs up which was a HUGE relief. So we did the transfer. It wasn’t as painful as the last time – although tight is still way too much of a understatement! Doc said it went well and so that was it.

Obviously I am blessed that I could even transfer 2 embryos but I was a little bummed that that is it for us regarding a further FET. Next time round it will need to be another IVF and another 30k – ouch!

But I am still feeling like shit warmed up. Like, really. Like I can’t face the drive home right now because of the nausea. My butt is now many colours of the rainbow with big painful lumps under the skin. And wait, I have diarrhoea to add to the list (sorry for the TMI). Oh, and don’t forget the moodiness and borderline depression – that’s new and probably the worst of them all. I have googled the side effects of Estropause and all of this comes up so I know I can’t read anything hopeful into these symptoms. It just makes a BFN all the more harder to bear when it’s all for nothing.

And yes, I know the good angel sitting on the other shoulder says “but it’s all worth it if its positive” but seriously, get the f**k out of my face!


3 Comments

A lumpy arse and other joys of FET

Caution: Gloom and doom ahead. Do not proceed if you are easily affected by negativity.

We are half way through our first FET cycle and I have to say that I am not enjoying myself. Not that any of the IF journey is every “enjoyable” but there has been some excitement along the way. This cycle – not so much.

I suppose I am not going into things feeling positive or hopeful or any of the other life-giving, earth mother nonsense that everyone says I should be feeling. I am almost grateful for this. The more “low key” or even gloomy I can keep my expectations the better. There is no “light at the end of the tunnel” but just more pain and heartache and shattered hopes so I just kinda want to get this all done and dusted.

It also turns out that the hormones are more brutal on FET. My Doc explained it as “hormone replacement” rather than “hormone supplement”. I started taking Estropause from CD3 building up from 1 tablet to now 4 per day. This is Estrogen and from what I understand its purpose is to get the uterus lining as thick as possible for implantation. Now that I am on 4 tables the headaches and nausea are not to be sneezed at. Then from CD13 Doc put me onto Gestone injections. Gestone is progesterone in oil and requires you to inject it into the butt muscle on a daily basis. Progesterone helps with maintaining a healthy lining to aid embryo implantation as well as maintain pregnancy after implantation.

Let me just tell you that this idea is directly from the pits of hell. I wouldn’t say I have a high pain threshold but I am not a ninny. Stimming for IVF was a breeze; taking blood when the nurse can’t find my vein is par for the course – I can handle all of this with no drama. But these injections are on another level. W has a needle phobia (bordering on pathetic) but he has had to man-up and give me these injections because there is no way I could give them to myself. They burn like hell during but just when you are relieved it’s over the site starts burning like hell even more and you get a nasty bump in the muscle. This stays for the next few days accompanied by a lovely purple bruise. And then the next day W has to find another site. Look, I have a large arse but after 4 of these injections I am starting to run out of lump free areas to bear this needle abuse.

If I get lucky and fall pregnant then I need to continue with the Gestone injections to help maintain the pregnancy. But in that instance the pain and the purple lumps will seem worth it. I will cherish that blessed time of day when I get to lie down with my bare arse exposed waiting for my husband to anoint me with the needle of hope and glory. But until then I despise it and sometimes just want to punch W in the face for doing this to me.

We are going in tomorrow for the Embryo Transfer (ET). We have 4 embryos frozen – I think they will thaw 2 and if they don’t thaw well they will try the other 2 and then put back to the best 2 of the bunch. I wouldn’t say I am “looking forward” to it rather than looking forward to the day off work. I haven’t forgotten the horrible little tool of pain that Doc uses to wrench open my vagina. But I do want to get those little buggers inside so I can start threatening them with embryo abuse if they decide not to hand around!

Just to carry on with the gloomy note I am not even looking forward to being PUPO (barf) – because I won’t “feel” pregnant, because I don’t know what pregnant feels like anyhow AND I won’t be able to drink wine. I will just wait out the 2 weeks, weather the disappointment of it all and try and look forward to my end of year holiday where I will drink copious amounts of wine.

And here is another little cheery story. I have worked with this guy for 3 years. He is slightly senior to me but not my boss. But he gets all the promotions and the perks and remains with his head firmly entrenched in our bosses arsehole. He is younger than me – about 6 years. He parties HARD, drinks HARD and spews the most offensive, unfunny drivel dripping with sexual innuendo and chauvinism ALL DAY. We are not friends. He recently moved from “player” to “taken” (poor girl) and then a few months later dumped her ass to sow his wild seeds some more. But lo and behold she found out she was 3 months pregnant so he has “done the right thing” and moved in with her. He is going to be a Dad. He bought a pram last week. I actually had a really good laugh when he told me but now I am just bitter and twisted and hating.

Fun times!


Leave a comment

Claws out

PMS is such a cliché, but it’s an unavoidable truth. What is a minor irritation normally becomes a rage that I cannot contain. I can’t let it go – I need to act on it, I need to express myself. This is usually aimed at W, the poor sod. But sometimes it is aimed at my friends. It goes from a niggle to claws out in 30seconds flat. And when you are an infertile your period is even more of a thorn in your side. So yes, I am using this as my excuse for wanting to claw the eyes out of a friend of mine. (I even sound premenstrual in the written word!)

She is pregnant with her 3rd child and cannot refrain from endless moaning on Facebook. It’s the heartburn and the sore hips and the cankles and the tiredness, like she is the most afflicted woman in the history of mammals gestating. Every time I log on it’s there. Plus she keeps on sending me inane messages like “How are you”. What she is wanting from me is for me to make her feel special by opening up to her about what I am going through at the moment. Maybe it is unfair for me to say she doesn’t care but I feel like she wants the juicy details of my pain. Any horrific or tragic story has her beating down the door to “be there” for the person and I feel it is gratuitous.

So I sent her an email and told her so. I tried to sound fair. But I also had to add an extra little passive-aggressive “your heartburn and swollen ankles are my dreams at the moment”. This is not me. I don’t really talk like this, ever. But I wanted her to squirm. Haven’t heard back yet but I am hoping I didn’t open pandora’s box. Believe it or not I don’t want to fight…

I am relishing the PMS this month because as soon as the period arrives then it is back onto that bicycle. We are doing our FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer) round this cycle. We have 4 of the little blighters. We joke about if any of them become children how much fun we will have knowing they were chilling in an icebox for a while.

This time round I am going into full defensive mode. The walls are coming up, I am not telling anyone and I want to be in robot mode just going through the motions without thinking or feeling ANYTHING. I AM ROBOT!